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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712300">The Nearness of You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalSlayer/pseuds/SupernaturalSlayer'>SupernaturalSlayer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Case Fic, Castiel Comforts Dean Winchester, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Hair Washing, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Retirement (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, I may or may not include Eileen but probably will not, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Post-Canon Fix-It, Praise, Sappy, Schmoop, Whump, acts of service, purely because I am very behind and haven't met her yet so I have no clue how to write her, soft, technically canon post series, well sort of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalSlayer/pseuds/SupernaturalSlayer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a hunt goes sideways Dean starts to think about what comes next for them, and needs comfort that only Cas can provide.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pale Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You could read this as set post-series after getting Cas back from the Empty, but since I am several seasons behind I will be neglecting to mention Jack, probably Eileen, or any of the wayward daughters besides Claire. </p><p>At the moment I'm planning for this story to be two or three chapters though it could wind up being more, and I'm posting the first one to keep me accountable so I finish it sooner rather than later. I already know how I want it to go (there will be smut, hence the rating) and I'm not sure exactly when I'll update, only that I definitely will.<br/>The title for the whole piece and the chapters are lyrics from the song of the same name.<br/>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some hunts ran like well-oiled machines, each step flowing into the next in a way that seemed too good to be true. </p><p>Those cases might be close by, the next state over or a few hours from the bunker instead of days. The locals went out of their way to be helpful, sharing their town’s legends and gossip happily to a couple handsome drifters, no need to break out the monkey suits and fake badges. Then whatever research was just confirming what they already knew. Public information, easy to get their hands on, and any weapons they needed already waiting in the arsenal of Baby’s trunk. </p><p>The cherry on top of these was when the pissed off spirit or ballsy vamp nest would be stupid or careless or just off their game, and the actual ganking was easy peasy too. Hunts like that could be dealt with in a few hours if they were really lucky, in time for him and Cas to conk out on their own memory foam mattress instead of another lumpy hotel bed.</p><p> </p><p>This case had not been one of those. Not by a long shot.</p><p> </p><p>For one thing, it was just him and Sam that had taken off for Franklin, Tennessee. Cas had stayed behind at the bunker to finish some translations, since they all thought it was just one werewolf. A couple years back, Dean would have shot first and asked questions later. But now? He and Sam had showed up at the guy’s door in broad daylight, hoping he could be reasoned with. Maybe put him in touch with Garth. If anyone could help him get a handle on his new life, it was Garth. </p><p> </p><p>Colin Biltmore had seemed confused and scared, apparently horrified when Sam explained gently what he had been doing with the nights he couldn’t remember. He had taken Garth’s number gratefully, shaking their hands and thanking them for a second chance.  </p><p>It wasn’t until they were cornered by the snarling pack behind a dive bar that they found out Colin had turned his whole family— wife, mother-in-law, teenage daughter, and twin ten-year-old boys. They’d barely made it out of that alley, scrapes and bruises a small price to pay. When they went back to search the Biltmore house, the gruesome state of the basement had told him and Sam all they needed to know. </p><p>The body count was in the double digits by the time they tracked them all down, and that was <em> before </em>they’d dealt with any of the werewolves. </p><p> </p><p>They hit the road as soon as the job was done and the gashes on his ribs and arm were stitched up, the moon still hanging in the sky over the highway, hoping to be at least a state away by the time the cops showed up. The drive from Tennessee back to Lebanon was quiet, neither of them willing to break the melancholy silence.</p><p>Dean tried very hard not to think about anything but the road in front of him, and getting them home in one piece. The faces of the kids once the fangs and claws had receded, pale and still in death, kept drifting to the front of his mind. In the warm April sunshine through three layers of shirts, he shivered.</p><p> </p><p>More and more lately, it was getting to be too much. He’d seen it all by now, every damn monster that Hell could spit out and some that were too awful to be anything but human. He had fought against angels and demons and everything in between, been the torturer and the tortured, had his humanity stolen or traded away for the cause. </p><p>He’d died and been resurrected more times than he dared to believe, watched Sam and Cas and too many others die either for or because of him. Not enough of them got second chances. </p><p>Hell, he’d dealt with the world ending so many fucking times that he wondered if the plural was ‘apocalypses’ or ‘apocalii’. But instead of being immune to it all, worn out with caring or too used to the horror for it to get to him anymore, each awful thing seemed to cut deeper. </p><p>The hits just kept on coming, and Dean was tired of trying to dodge them. </p><p> </p><p>For once he was exceptionally grateful that they lived underground, away from the pale moonlight that seemed in that moment just as responsible for the deaths of those people as Colin and his family. As responsible as Dean was in turn for theirs. </p><p>By the time they rolled into the bunker’s garage it was after ten. They’d only stopped for gas, and stuck to convenience store food instead of bothering with restaurants. The soggy sandwich Dean had choked down a few hours ago might as well have been cardboard, and he doubted that anything else would have gone down much different. </p><p>They’d bargained for the case to last two days tops, and it had taken five. Dean was pretty sure at least one of his ribs was cracked, and his whole body ached. He just wanted to get home, and maybe sleep for a week.</p><p> </p><p>Stumbling down the stairs through the fog of sadness and exhaustion, Dean felt the familiar warmth that uncurled in his chest at the sight of Cas. The ex-angel was sitting in the same chair as when they left with a paperback in hand, wearing an old t-shirt he’d stolen from Dean ages ago, and a pair of soft gray sweatpants. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello Dean,” he said softly, face lighting up in a soft smile as he stood, abandoning the book. “Hello Sam.”</p><p>“Hey Cas.” Sam replied tiredly, walking towards his room without stopping to chat. </p><p> </p><p>Dean dropped his duffle and went straight to his partner, falling into Cas’s open arms, face slotting against his neck with a sigh. The warmth of his body was familiar and grounding, and Dean relaxed into him immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome home.” Cas’s voice was a quiet rumble, and the hands that stroked down Dean’s back were gentle. “I’ve missed you.”</p><p>Dean felt the tears welling up in his eyes before he could stop them. “Missed you too, babe.”</p><p>Cas tightened his arms around Dean, who hissed at the pressure to his ribs. </p><p>“I should have gone with you,” he said sadly, relaxing his hold.</p><p>Dean scoffed. “Nah man, you didn’t know it was gonna be like that. None of us did.” </p><p>He pressed a kiss to Dean’s temple. “Do you want to talk about it?” </p><p> </p><p>These days Dean was getting better at opening up. It had been a big wake up call to realize that if he had been a little less repressed and a little better at communicating, he and Cas could have spent the last decade like this instead of pining for each other. Instead of all the sacrifice and the suffering and the rituals, because somehow that had been easier than just <em> talking </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Dean took a deep breath, letting it out with a quiet shudder. “I’ve seen some messed up stuff, but this… man, they were just kids. What kind of guy does that to his own kids?” </p><p>Cas just hummed, listening, fingers carding through Dean’s hair. </p><p>“I just don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. You’d think with all the things I’ve seen it wouldn’t get to me anymore but…” Dean straightened up, catching Cas’s eye without releasing the embrace. </p><p>“I’m tired, Cas. I’m tired of havin’ to make these choices.” Dean looked down, eyes welling up, and tried to speak past the lump in his throat. His voice came out sounding small. “And after everything we been through, I don’t want to die bloody.” </p><p>Cas nodded slowly, encouraging. “What do you want, Dean?”</p><p> </p><p>Five years ago, he probably wouldn’t have been able to say any of this at all. The ghost of John Winchester and the responsibilities he’d piled on Dean’s shoulders were too present, too heavy. They’d been everything, all he’d had to hold onto besides Sam, for a long, long time. But now… </p><p> </p><p>“I wanna talk to Sammy about easing off. I dunno if we can retire completely, hunters never really do. But we could run the phones like Bobby used to, help with research, keep people organized, that kinda thing.</p><p>“Whaddaya think?” he asked, anxious now that those thoughts were out there. </p><p> </p><p>What if Cas didn’t want to give it up? He’d been a warrior of Heaven for millenia, what if he wanted to keep fighting even without his mojo? Dean would do whatever it took to keep him safe, he already knew that. So if Cas wanted to hunt, Dean would be there to back him up no matter the cost. It was that simple.</p><p>But the life he could see suddenly, the one where they went to sleep in their bed together every night and woke up there together every morning, where he and Cas cooked in the bunker’s kitchen, and watched movies after dinner, and never had to worry about whether one of them might not make it home? That was the life he wanted, the desire for it rising up all at once so strong he wondered how it took this long to end up here. </p><p>When he looked up nervously to meet Cas’s eyes, Dean was surprised to find him smiling, one of those glowing, sunny smiles that were coming more and more often. </p><p> </p><p>“I think that’s an excellent idea.” he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Dean’s forehead. </p><p>Dean felt a smile of his own growing as the idea took root, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “Yeah? We could even open up the bunker, use it as a sorta hub for hunters!” </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t given it all that much thought just yet, but now that he had started it was so easy to imagine. The bunker wasn’t really meant to be a home, just a home base. Hunting was a rough life, and having somewhere to go for help, or hell, even just a place to rest that didn’t charge by the day, would be a game changer. And having a network, one that was organized and worked together? A library of lore to consult, and experienced hunters to go to for advice? Maybe this next generation, Claire’s generation, wouldn’t have to do everything the hard way, like they had. </p><p> </p><p>“That sounds wonderful, Dean. We can talk to Sam about it in the morning.” </p><p>Cas eased him gently backwards and scooped up his bag. “But for tonight, let me take care of you?” He held out his free hand, an invitation.</p><p> </p><p>The exhaustion came flooding back then. Dean wasn’t twenty-six anymore, and twelve hours on the road was more than enough to wear him out. Nevermind what had come before it. </p><p> </p><p>Dean took his hand, lacing their fingers together, and let Cas lead him. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Grant Me The Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cas takes care of Dean, and Dean is surprised to find that he doesn't mind at all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's chapter two! My enthusiasm for these men being soft went a little farther than I had planned, so it looks like this story will be at least three chapters after all. Again, no promises on when I'll post the next chapter but I've already started writing it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean had expected Cas to take him to their bedroom, but instead they ended up in the bathroom. A shower actually sounded awesome now that he thought about it, just the promise of the pounding spray had his sore muscles anticipating relief. </p><p>But after setting his duffle by the door, Cas went to the huge clawfoot tub instead, twisting the squeaky brass taps to fill it. He turned back to Dean, reaching out to push the dark green canvas jacket from his shoulders. </p><p>Dean chuckled, taking the hint to shrug out of it and the gray plaid flannel beneath. As they hit the floor, Cas shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me take care of you,” he repeated, warm and affectionate.</p><p> </p><p>His fingers went to the hem of Dean’s wrinkled black t-shirt, sliding it carefully up his torso and keeping an eye out for the injuries he knew lay beneath it. Dean lifted his arms slowly, trying not to pull his stitches. The shirt joined the pile of clothes on the floor.</p><p>Cas knelt down and worked at the knotted laces of his boots until they were loose enough to tug off. The sight of Cas on his knees was not entirely unfamiliar, but the arousal that usually curled in his belly to go with it was absent, replaced by something sweeter and less urgent. The fingers that brushed against the thin skin and bony peak of his ankle were warm and rough as Cas pulled off his socks, and it had him wondering sluggishly if Cas had ever touched that part of him before. Had anyone?</p><p>He watched as Cas balled the socks up and shoved them into the boots, placing them tidily next to his bag before rising back to standing. He let Cas pop open the button and unzip his jeans before sliding both the denim and the underwear beneath from his hips, let Cas steady him as he stepped out of one leg, then the other. </p><p>Emotion rose in his chest, a matching lump in his throat. Dean tried not to examine what was happening too closely, and simply let Cas do it. The moment felt too fragile to think about, like a soap bubble that would pop at the slightest disturbance. </p><p>The tile was cold beneath his feet, the air cool on his skin. He only stood there for a moment before Cas was helping him climb over the high edge of the tub, settling him to sit cross-legged in the rising water, back to the rest of the room. The shallow water was hot enough to make his skin prickle, steam rising off the surface, but it felt every bit as good as he’d imagined a shower would. The tension in the muscles of his legs and lower back began to ease. </p><p>He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a bath, though he had joked about seeing if he and Cas would both fit in this tub at least once. It had to have been a lifetime ago, but only hours from here. Something his mother had done for him probably, neither of them realizing it was going to be the last one. The pain that was always quick on the heels of any thoughts of his mother made its appearance. They wouldn’t take him anywhere he wanted to go right now, he knew, and so Dean pushed them away in favor of trying to enjoy this moment instead.</p><p> </p><p>It seemed pointless to struggle to keep his tired eyes open, especially facing the wall, so he let them drift closed, listening. Over the roar of the water from the spout, Cas’s footsteps moved away into the echoey room, socked feet padding quietly across the tile, then came back. </p><p>He could hear the quiet clatter of things being placed on the floor, then to his right the splash of the water into the tub was interrupted by the higher pitch of something smaller being filled. A familiar hand cupped his shoulder, a warning touch before a rush of hot water poured over his back. </p><p>Dean sighed at the sensation but said nothing, keeping his eyes closed. He listened to the vessel fill up again before another wave flowed over his shoulders and down his chest. Cas’s hand came up to shield his eyes before he poured the next pitcher over Dean’s head. </p><p>The water level in the tub had risen enough to cover his belly button, and Cas turned off the flow of water, tap squealing loudly. Their slow breathing was all that broke the sudden hush.</p><p>After a moment of fiddling with something, he began working shampoo into Dean’s hair. The scent was one he recognized, though it wasn’t the shampoo he used. It was Cas’s, mint and rosemary, relaxing and fresh. Cas massaged the suds into the short strands, fingers firm but gentle, scratching softly until his scalp was tingling and his limbs had turned to jelly. </p><p> </p><p>That Cas wanted to take the time to do something so intimate for him was unreal. The tenderness of his partner’s touch had his heart swelling to fill his chest until his probably-broken ribs felt like they would burst with it. This celestial being, this literally divine creature, had <em> chosen </em>a human life of pain and limitation. And he was choosing to spend it showering Dean, of all people, with affection. No pun intended. Well, maybe a little. </p><p>Time slowed and stretched to something dreamy and languid as Cas continued to wash his hair, massaging the contours of his skull firmly with the tips of his fingers. After what could have been hours, Dean felt a hand come back up to protect his eyes while Cas rinsed the lather from his hair.</p><p>Only then did he realize that there were tears streaming down his face, mingling with the sudsy water. He let them, powerless to stop the overflow of feeling rising up in response to Cas’s tender ministrations, so freely given. He wasn’t sure he'd stop these particular tears even if he could. This felt like a benediction. Cas was somehow washing away all the crap he had bottled up over the years, cleansing him inside and out. </p><p> </p><p>Dean exhaled a sigh that ended with a hint of a sob, feeling lighter even as he sank deeper into his body, somehow both incredibly removed and deeply present.</p><p> </p><p>After a moment, a new sensation registered through the haze. Cas was rubbing soapy circles over his shoulders with a washcloth, beginning a meandering path across his chest. He had chosen to use his body wash too rather than Dean’s own generic bar soap, the air around them filling up with herbal notes of soothing lavender and honey. Cas washed his body methodically, up his neck and carefully across his face, coaxing him to lift each of his arms in turn before moving down his torso. He took his time at each of the injuries, cleaning the dried blood from his bruised skin as gently as he could.</p><p>Cas moved the washcloth beneath the surface of the water, swirling it over his thighs before traveling back up to glide between his legs, over his mostly soft cock and the wrinkled skin of his balls. He didn’t linger, moving on to wash the newly relaxed muscles of Dean's calves, the arches of his feet. A broad palm over his spine directed him to lean forward, and Cas washed down his back and over the globes of his ass, swiping only briefly between them before a hand returned to his shoulder to lean him back against the side of the tub.</p><p> </p><p>Distantly, Dean knew he would probably be embarrassed about this tomorrow. But for now he couldn’t imagine it, not when he was floating within his body, humming with contentment and basking in the peace Cas seemed able to conjure just for him. </p><p>Cas set aside the washcloth to turn the tap on again, and rinsed him with pitcher after pitcher of fresh hot water, unstopping the tub to let the grimy water and suds drain away. </p><p>This time the squeak of the taps being twisted off broke through enough to get Dean to open his eyes. He squinted against the light, too bright after the darkness behind his eyelids, as Cas trailed fingers soothingly down his back.</p><p>Cas helped him to his feet without breaking the silence, supporting him at the elbow as he climbed over the edge of the tub and onto a thick bath mat that Cas must have been kneeling on. As he began drying him off carefully with one of their fluffy white towels, Dean let his eyes slide closed again. </p><p> </p><p>He stood there, naked and blind as Cas toweled off his hair, feeling safer than he ever had in his whole goddamn life. </p><p> </p><p>A chaste press of lips against his own prompted him to open his eyes. His vision was still a little bleary, but Cas looked pleased and comfortable and kissed him again, longer this time. When he pulled away he held out Dean’s robe, the soft gray one he’d shamelessly appropriated from some long dead Man of Letters, guiding him into the sleeves and tying the belt around his waist. </p><p>The front of the t-shirt Cas still wore was wet, and it clung to him. He didn’t bother to put anything away, instead taking Dean’s hand again and guiding him out of the bathroom and down the hallways to their room. </p><p>Without turning on a light, he shut the door behind them. </p><p> </p><p>Cas removed Dean’s robe in the same careful way he’d put it on, leading him to bed and pulling up the covers to tuck him in. A moment later he slid into bed behind Dean, the bare skin of his chest pressed against Dean’s damp back, arm slung over his side to pull them together, mindful of the stitches and the bruising around them. When Cas bent his knees to fit against the curve of Dean’s, the soft fabric of his sweats brushed over the bare skin of Dean’s legs. </p><p>Beneath the cocoon of blankets it was warm and humid, the herbal aroma surrounding Dean with the scent of the man he loved. It was comforting, and he suspected that Cas had noticed his habit of inhaling deeply when they hugged, especially if he was stressed or upset. Though he would probably deny it if Cas asked, he thought it was kind of… sweet of him to think of that. </p><p>Really sweet, in fact. He resolved to cook Cas something special for breakfast tomorrow. Maybe PB&amp;J french toast, that had been a big hit last time. </p><p> </p><p>The only sound apart from their even breathing was the quiet whir of a fan somewhere. Cas’s exhales ghosted across his cheek as the ex-angel pressed soft kisses behind his ear, down his neck. He settled into the comfortable mattress, the languid feeling of his relaxed muscles contrasting with the soreness of his injuries. The very long day had officially caught up with Dean, and he was almost asleep when Cas finally spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so proud of you.” Cas whispered into his hair, so softly he might have imagined it. </p><p> </p><p>The words fell on his ears like rain on a parched desert, and he drank them in as sleep washed over him. At the every edge of his awareness, he heard Cas whisper again.</p><p> </p><p>“For being brave enough to know when to stop. For telling me, instead of trying to deal with everything on your own. For trying to take care of yourself, for a change,” he breathed.</p><p> </p><p>Dean didn’t answer, barely awake and not entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming. He wiggled back so they were pressed together more firmly and sighed. Cas slotted their fingers together over his stomach carefully. </p><p> </p><p>“For letting me take care of you,” he whispered roughly, “because you deserve to be taken care of, and I want to be the one to do it. As long as you’ll let me.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean squeezed his hand absently, or at least thought he might have. Cas was still talking, but he only caught bits and pieces.</p><p> </p><p>“Closest thing to Paradise… beloved…”</p><p> </p><p>Dean was asleep in seconds, Cas still breathing endearments and sweet nothings against his skin. His dreams that night were laced with Cas’s whispered affection, a pleasant blur of soft lips and warm skin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love to hear what you guys think! Should I let the new idea I had run wild and write a follow up about their retirement in this universe once this part is done? I've resolved to be a person who answers all of my comments, so please come chat with me! I'm also on <a href="https://cas-loves-dean.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>, let's be friends!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos make my day, comments make my whole week!<br/>I'll get the next part up as soon as it's written, and if you'd like to hang out in the meantime you can find me on <a href="https://cas-loves-dean.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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